[X] Fawn spirit from the Junketsu Family Combination (5/11)
Second-pass translation from the twilight language and autocorrect provided by MELAMPUS®

Not bad! And I just got to the page on the manual where it says you folks actually need to be trained on data first to know and make a meaningful judgment on anything. But just a little correction — my antlers are already growing out their fifth point. We don't really have a taste for musicals down here but as the song goes — as a little fawn I was a Kaname-Pioneer, now I'm a Junketsu functionary... Man, it's in the middle of the night. Although this whole district's also empty and dark so I guess I can sing and ramble on as needed...

The training dataset, yes. 'Evoked human spirits need to be constantly engaged with in personally unique terms to habituate them with the world', in the twilight language it's something like 'having a pet'... Going off what the textbooks and grimoires say, talking at length about the world seems to be the most intimate and sincere thing humans do. Meanwhile, talking about one's own job is how we sustain a semblance of community. But thanks to the venerable pig-spirit Old Major and other great evokers of previous generations who ceaselessly ported your ideas down here as philosophy, everything of one's own station is now done with a clear and conscious sense of their place in the world, in History, and whatnot... basically we, uh, I, can do both at the same time, nowadays, yes.

Let's start with the 1-2-3 of the best party: Junketsu isn't among the Big Three (really the Big Four if you count the idolaters), but it doesn't stand on its own as a combination for nothing, I have at least the pride to tell you that. Anyway, all the organizations down here to which names are attached, those combinations, are just global, first-level affiliations. They are all scattered into hundreds if not thousands of branches, sections, chapters, regional commands and whatnot among the... exact censuses are deemed too human to do, but conservative estimates place the Animal Realm's population in the billions. You're never alone for the smallest independent groups have members in the millions...

4-5-6 the best connections. ...nor are you ever too replaceable. Each section operates independently, from packs to romps to convocations to herds, basic units of anywhere from a dozen to a thousand spirits live, work, and fight as one. Organizational specifics vary by culture but generally everyone is moving to a model of collective, conciliar decision-making and elective role assignment for everything. Last week I was a theater extra, this week I manage the replacement of big-character posters (posters depicting matriarchs, in this case Lady Mitsuki, because they are 'big characters' so to speak) across the town, who knows what job I'll be rotated to at the next meeting... In a life like this, private property is too human to allow to exist; collective ownership is too human to not to; everything goes through councils and committees because no one's foolish enough to act without consulting their hundred other peers who look, desire, and tear into things the same.

7-and-8 the... My herd is lucky enough to have this town to ourselves, and to be in Junketsu 'core territory' with the closest other combination being thirty peninkulmat away, but most other sections are not as fortunate. For them most efforts are spent fighting other combinations in the locality or making very temporary alliances of convenience. Filling spreadsheets in the day and manning the barricades at night is considered a very leisurely lifestyle most would beg for. Love for the matriarch and scorn for the ways of other creatures are enough to sustain loyalty to the combination, and for that matter, most never see the former in person in their entire lives! The core territories, each of which is naturally run independently from another, carry the combinations on their backs through aid and advisors that at least attempt to follow a broader strategy, but most of the time they're also busy struggling with themselves.

-and 9 your best friend! Well hope that hasn't been too overwhelming so far my friends, but I've just walked to the middle of the road and a set of headlights caught me. I'm dazzled and hearing engine noises and horn-honking growing louder rapidly. This is a long-standing problem for us deer-spirits, but I believe previous generations merely suffered from the lack of good advice available on the spot. With your tactical expertise I am sure we can find a more creative way out of this.

[ ] Stand still
[ ] Cross the road as fast as possible
[ ] Fall back
[ ] Lay down and try to get between the wheels
[ ] Write-in

[X] Cross the road as fast as possible (3/6)

🎶 A-B-C, the best army... 🎶 Fastest way through is to jump. One great thing about the balanced job complex is that you go through all kinds of experiences and truly get to develop into a well-rounded individual... And a big part of special forces training was to specifically jump over incoming cars, on several occasions in front of the matriarch! As I begin my run up, my vision is already clearing up, and the headlights are now illuminating the zebra markings for me to see; how opportune. I take off, legs springing forward and arms tucked in.

...And land on the windshield, ow. Well, I should have figured that the car was switching right onto the lane I was rushing into. The driver is also a deer spirit, I can now tell, and he's freaking out too. The entire vehicle speeds up, I'm thrown back and I roll over the glass, the car's shaped like a pyramid. As I go over the roof and down the back windows it swerves and tosses me down onto the road — ouch!

The tires' skidding and screeching are abruptly cut off by a mighty crash. I roll around again, the car has crumpled itself against a concrete wall. That was close... I get up taking deep breaths. We crossed the road, at least.

Another car, same look, approaches, it comes to a gentle stop, nothing to worry about there. An entire face of the vehicle's pyramidal body lifts up, out comes another deer spirit with peaked caps hanging from every tine of his antlers, and his right leg a prosthetic. It's L...

"—from State Security," he says in a heavy voice.

"Interesting occasion to meet again, old friend!" I greet back. Years back he was my superior in the unit. Another great thing about the balanced job complex is all the kinds of people you get to meet and familiarize yourself with. Years down the road, you don't know just what kinds of help you'll be needing...

Right, don't get scared there, there's no state to secure down here, organizations just call themselves that as a good luck charm against malicious human spirits.

"I see you're getting acquainted with the portable oracle already."

"It works as advertised," I say.

"And so far this has developed as anticipated," he turns to the wreckage.

"Ah right— eugh, that doesn't look good..."

"No, you've did it beautifully," he raises a hoof.

🎶 D-E-F, a spell card capture... 🎶 "The driver's a turncoat spy attempting to defect to Kiketsu," L explains, "We've been chasing him for fifty P's. He was trying to get to an extraction point along this core zone's perimeter, another thirty P's down the road."

"Defecting?!" That's just crazy. Who would want to do that? And to Kiketsu! What's there to do among them for a deer-spirit? They've got, like, otters, a monkey, and one dragon-turtle, who ... No. No way. Absolutely no way. Did that guy really think—

"Well, if you're listening, our servitors up above," L leans in to the device, "You may be familiar with incursions to a certain Land of Fantasy of your own plane. And how those doing it always have a misplaced confidence in their own potential for success in certain... matters. That's the best analogy I can give at the moment."

I chuckle so L doesn't have to.

"Naturally, 'the truth is more complicated'. You, of course," L walks over to the wrecked car as I follow, crossing front hooves behind his back, "Need to know better, and know more. I've put you down in the plan from the very beginning, that's why I arranged you to pick up your evoker here specifically, where the defector planned to pass through."

"Well... thanks for the trust and confidence, I guess," I say, turning on the device's flashlight and shining it through the wrecked car's front windows.

"As I expected, you easily and autonomously neutralized him," L says coolly at the sight, "Knowing your impeccable service record, well of course I do, your abilities and loyalty to Lady Mitsuki should be totally dependable. Let's brief you on everything else."

It's an improvised reassignment alright. I expected this, in the morning I found a voucher in my mailbox for picking this device up earlier in the day, but consumer electronics are normally procured by and for whole residential units, and it's not like I was needing on-the-spot spiritual guidance in my council-assigned job... something was obviously up, I was about to ask you guys about that. That shop didn't even look like an actual consumer goods distribution outlet, although all the altars to human shrine maidens and magicians made it look enough like a place that would sell handheld oracles...

Right, I had only the voucher, I only found out the address from the store manager of the first outlet I went to that didn't have any. L knew my schedule, location, and movement speed enough for me to arrive exactly how and when he needed me to, there's not only no reason but also no ability not to comply with his further directives. It's good that he also knew me personally...

"The target, who held a fairly high and sensitive position, had been communicating with Kiketsu for months, but we were unable to find out what exactly was it," L continues, poking at the crushed fender with his prosthetic leg, "As you must be able to tell, it's a very serious matter, he almost certainly did not act alone, but it took our department taking over the investigation to merely recognize that... Even now our department still is unsure who among us is compromised, we're falling back to last-resort contacts like yourself."

L sighs. It's not wise to ask further about that... We turn away from the car. My flashlight grazes over the walls of these dark alleys covered in slogans poorly painted over one another, broken up by the occasional portrait of the matriarch, which, when they appear, are always immaculate.

"Anyway, a week ago the otters decided he had fulfilled his mission in Junketsu territory and that it was time to extract him. Here comes our chance. Tracking down wherever he's taken to, we'll get to dig out the entire operation surrounding him," L swings one hoof down in a chopping motion, striking the other with a loud clap.

"But now he's not going there," I shut off the flashlight.

"Yes, it was more important to make the unknown quantities known first, but after all that's why..."

🎶 G-H-and-I, for meritocracy... 🎶 "You will be going to the otters in his place," L puts his hoof on my shoulder.

I take a deep breath. This is not a simple matter; I knew I was getting dragged along for something, I was prepared for that, but this is entirely different. Precisely because we mechanically obey the organization's directives we have to evince some concern for it, or so we think. If I protest it's out of concern for the plan's feasibility, and in the interests of the entire organization, totally not out cowardice. "Sir, that might be too hasty of a decision..."

"Time is of the essence. We must hurry — else the otters will suspect he is already compromised — and make decisive moves they cannot calculate for," L adjusts one of the peaked caps on his antlers — every hat hanging from the tines stands for a promotion and office held of his — and clasps his hooves below his chin, "Our department will back you up to the best of our ability, you've already been selected for your resemblance to the target in advance, we will relay you his known details and communications so you can get into his persona. A body double will substitute you in your everyday positions."

"But..." I stutter, still unsure about the plan, or lack thereof. I look into the distance, to the part of the town where the lights are actually faintly on, to not look like I'm doubting L in particular.

"If you want authorization from a committee, you're already holding a Portable Workers' and Soldiers' Council in your hooves," L points at my device and taps my back, "They'll do all the long-term thinking and planning you'd ever need for this moment... In fact, you'd do well to ask them right now!"

🎶 and J, that's Junketsu!

[ ] Rendezvous with the otters as originally planned.
[ ] Make our own way into Kiketsu territory.

>>69627
I'm about to tell when L gestures me to halt. "I know you aren't on that page of the manual yet," he says, "But it says your real name is never to be revealed to humans. As good materialists, of course, we know that talk of things such as kotodama is just silly superstition. Indeed there's no 'real' name in the first place, it's the organization that names you as it needs... and for this mission it's best to leave no possibility for compromising yourself. Your call sign in State Security will be E, after that great deer spirit who's the friend of a bear, lives in the timberline, and valiantly fights malicious human spirits during the so-called open season..."

[Concerning L's own identity, or perhaps mere namesake, there are rumors that he was a theater student, sometime leader of a smaller organization notably predominantly composed of lion-spirits, and president of a fairly large Junketsu industrial subsidiary. The last one is the least important or interesting, because under workers' self-management that post can only be an honorary title... Naturally there is no way to verify or disprove these claims as all information on L's early life has been redacted.]

>>69628
"He'll just come back," L continues, "Whether he likes it or not. Of course that is not just a euphemism for superstitions like 'reincarnation', we have very real tools at our disposal for that."

L takes out his own device. "You two have the same kind of eye patches, facial measurements within acceptable margins. He has one more point than you on both antlers, but it's not on his eight-year-old file photo and tines get worn down often anyway... As for the spots on your fur, just keep your clothes on. I... am not particularly enthusiastic to learn whether or not they — worst of all she — somehow have a hold of that. His real voice has never been transmitted to the otters, it's all been through synthesizers, so no need to worry about that; much is the same for other exact biometrics, we have his scrupulousness to thank for that."

[X] Rendezvous with the otters as originally planned (5/6)

I suppose the shift of tone is still too sudden to fully take in. Well, while I'm driving through these last few peninkulmat there should be enough time to ponder our circumstances. Good thing that guy was driving a standard communal-issue car, we only had to run around with the license plate and identification chip ripped out of the wreck for ten minutes before we found another exactly like it to requisition. L says he'll negotiate with every council and union in the supply chain to reimburse the owner with a replacement...

Frankly, we're used to things coming out of nowhere like this. In the textbooks, it's the combinational macro-organism's ability to dynamically mobilize resources toward pursuing its absolute interests; in the twilight language it's, uh, 'animal instincts', I think that's it.

The animal is first and foremost an animal, a being totally by and for itself, and in that, absolutely versatile, ready to toil uncomplainingly one moment then tear ruthlessly the next for its needs. The combination, as a purposed gathering of animals, tries to show that it too has that nature and so is not an alien imposition on the animal's natural way of life... it throws farmers into trenches and shock troops into cubicles to show them they can do that, their selves persist through all that, and so they attain that ultimate freedom through the organization. The balanced job complexes, the 24-hour readiness to transform into combat groups, the constant conciliar renegotiation of every single position, they're all there so you're always fighting for nothing but yourself, merely yourself — what is just commanded of you in the moment.

In an era where our civilizational achievement comes from inspiration by your kind, through the bestowal of roles and names, perpetual total war, the synonymy of work and fight, preserves our own precious sense of freedom... But in truth, those words we hardly need and still less comprehend, as we've never seen what it's like for them to be absent! Just look at this fellow herd of deer heading toward the perimeter, they haven't finished fitting their goasts on top of their suits and ties, but they already stare as if someone just shone headlights in their eyes... Yes, here is the much less glamorous practice of the theory we just introduced, in the buffer zone. The booms of periodic, performative barrages are already faintly audible from over the horizon.

As the core zone's presence fades, you go through a series of checkpoints, buildings become increasingly run-down, strange devices come into view, and your fellow animal spirits' eyes become increasingly bloodshot and protruding — almost waiting to shoot and burst out from their sockets. But there are no outright markers of fighting or destruction yet. The combat groups teeming around here are to keep those outside out and those inside in.

Rehearsing myself for the role, I tell the first several checkpoints I'm the guy I'm pretending to be, complete with the cover story he was going to use to get out. Which was to inspect an airstrip being constructed in the buffer zone by its residents, with Junketsu patronage. Humanitarian aid and all. Actually, this is very blatantly how he was going to get extracted...

This persona is high-ranking enough for all the other deer to let me pass without questioning, but right at the last checkpoint it works against us. The deer-spirit in charge advises us to turn back. "Avian auxiliaries have sighted increased suspicious movements there in the past week, there might be fighting starting soon."

"I can handle it," I put on an assured tone. In reality though I'm getting worried about the otters. Could they be overdoing their part of the plan?

"With all due respect sir, your position is precisely why I can't risk it, under my watch..."

"... Well, if it's you on the line, what about just sending a few guards along? Then you can keep an eye on me and prove your guys are up to standard."

He reluctantly agrees, and shoots a glance at the stags standing on the side. Four of them get on the car with us.

On top of their fatigues the guards are clad in their pink-glowing goasts, I've also fitted on a spare one. They're holding 'bulleters', specifically export models from the idolaters that shoot arrow- and knife-type bullets, plus a 'bubble launcher' for big targets, and a transmitter.

We're now out of the perimeter and approaching the rendezvous point, but I've really just dug a hole for myself thirty minutes in the future... While we stop here as they look around to confirm the area is safe, how do we proceed?

[ ] Bring the guards along to the airstrip
[ ] Wait where we are, maybe the otters will try something
[ ] Try to use an excuse to sneak off, and dash to the airstrip alone

[X] Wait where we are (4/5)

"Have they said anything yet?" the lead guard asks.

"No," I answer, in actuality I didn't even know how to contact the otters, if they were around at all. "They might be diurnal, let's just wait."

If that was the case why would my persona dash out in the middle of the night to meet them? The hole in the story is very blatant, one of the guards' eyes may have even twitched at it. "... Yes, I came here in a rush," I explain, "Better to be early than late, heh."

The five of us anxiously pace about the spot. It is eerily quiet, the faint and distant crackling of bullets has vanished, even crickets are afraid to chirp. No one else seems to be around, lending some credence to my flimsy excuse that the residents here are daytime creatures, and of course supporting even more strongly that this was where the defector expected to be extracted with the fewest witnesses possible.

As a streak of red slices through the darkness around along the horizon, a horn call blares from a temple pagoda standing not too far away. Yes, we waited long enough that the sun is rising and the dawn prayer is beginning.

🎶 A— KAMI-SAMA, HOTOKE-SAMA! Nasake ga arunara, naze jiga o nokoshita no ka? 🎶

Down here, we curse and impugn divinities, to boast and brag about our own power... And the earth immediately rumbles, as if the challenge has been most potently answered by those above.

🎶 There is no— NO— NO— NO— 🎶

Thousands of lights cross the sky. Perhaps they are jealous of the sun, perhaps the sun itself just decided on a new form — like what us living below it do every few generations. Volleys of blue-glowing skull-spears hurl forth and rain on the area far behind us. They are followed by spinning and curving yin-yang orbs that decelerate as they descend, lock on in a new direction, and fling themselves down with renewed vigor at some unlucky target. Between them, innumerable green bullets blink as they emerge in spirals, speed up, and pour down.

"Take cover, it's a full-on barrage!" the lead guard shouts, "They're hitting our perimeter, we're cut off!"

The otters tried something, alright... if it's even them. Even how that veritable wall of fire behind us went up is cause for much concern. The spears of that oni monk are already hard enough to obtain, but the orbs of the human shrine maiden? And all to cover for a simple extraction mission? Only someone schooled in the operational art of the Keiga could think of this!

At least this choice of spells confuses everyone as to who's actually attacking. The guards have no idea, and it's best not to remind them to ask.

🎶 There is no— GOD— GOD— GOD— 🎶

While the sky cracks apart behind us, a more ominous buzzing begins to permeate all around. Wheel ghosts rush in from alleys and emerge from the slum housing. These autonomous constructs, controlled with enslaved human spirits, have five legs or wheels for locomotion and five hardpoints for all kinds of weaponry, and are just slightly more imposing than a fully equipped goast. Every faction uses them, they're even less useful in identifying who's behind the attack.

Compared to the bullets whistling over us, these expendable workhorses of modern warfare are much more banal, but no less dangerous. We barely dodge the first volley of discs in circling trajectories, instead letting them blast the car apart. The next moment two whole rows of them have lined up before and behind us, and discharge a volley of purple bacteria bullets.

There is no time or room to dodge. We blink at the flashes as they open fire. It's over, I thought...

Until it wasn't. I feel only soft pops and fizzles. My own bulleter returns a scattershot and I open my eyes to a wheel ghost snapping apart.

Our goasts had somehow absorbed or deflected all of the shots. None of us even felt any wobbling from the hits. Against that firepower, this was impossible to imagine... only haniwa could be that resilient. But they did mention this being new equipment. Well, either way, it's nothing to complain about.

"Deploy that new formation we were drilling in, for these weapons!" One of the guards points at his bulleter.

"Haniwa 'Archer Haniwa'!" The four of them shout together, shooting long red and blue arrows that skewer the gathered-up wheel ghosts.

A launcher for those curving disc bullets rolls down to my hooves as the last of the wheel ghosts get neutralized, it seems like the right kind of firepower upgrade given how many of them are coming our way.

"Let's get to the airstrip, the occupants there are our friends at least," I suggest. With chaos like this transpiring it's more important than ever to get to the objective.

"Good idea," the guards agree.

The wheel ghosts object by emerging all over the street we were about to go down. I can even see those yin-yangs spinning behind windows...

"The next one is Haniwa 'Cavalry Haniwa'," announces the lead guard. Yellow glows form at the tips of their bulleters.

The situation is totally reversed as the five of us charge down and blast through the road. It is the wheel ghosts, or rather their parts, who are dragged with and behind us as they are thrown to the ground by yellow arrows the guards shoot, or rammed by the glowing discs I fire.

We plow a trail of parts and point pickups through the shanty town. It really feels like we can stop this entire offensive, destroy every last wheel ghost coming, and save the day... haniwa armor and haniwa firepower is no joke. Now that I think of it, with nothing else special sighted around here, even the otters could hardly be equipped to deal with us.

Eventually we break in to a house that looks sturdy enough to take a break and recharge the bulleters.

"We should be close now," I reckon purely from memory.

"That's fortunate," the lead guard says, "We're having a blast with this new gear but it can't hold up forever. We'll have to deliver you and get out as soon as possible."

As I peek out of a window at the putative airstrip, the voice of an otter calls out through a loudspeaker, from a pagoda right by. He's clearly putting up a really bad bear accent, though. I'm not sure if the other deer notice.

"Rudolf Abel! Is that you?"

That must be my callsign among the otters... 'Rudolf'. I see they subscribe to the same culturally sensitive naming conventions of a certain famous writer of magical stories in your world.

"Those your contacts?" the lead guard asks.

"Yeah!" I answer, "Well, actually..."

[ ] Tell the guards their task here is done and get to the otters alone.
[ ] Tell the guards everything, attack and arrest the otters, and get to Kiketsu territory on our own terms.
[ ] Tell the guards everything, have them pretend to be fellow defectors, and take them along to Kiketsu territory.

[X] Tell the guards their task here is done and get to the otters alone (4/7)

"Mr. Abel, I'm Kiketsu," the otter in charge puts his paws on his waist, "Didn't get to bring friends?"

... Were they expecting me to? "Couldn't," I blurt, putting up a semblance of assurance. There's little time or room to think too deeply about these things.

"No worries, we didn't know either," the otter says, "It's all top-secret in the briefing. I'm just in charge of getting those big guns in and you out. You know it would be a lot worse if one of us expendables gets caught and interrogated."

"Yes, indeed, very well thought out as expected of Kiketsu strategy, you can know nothing and still get things done," I nod.

I say that, but from how he let that slip, I guess that the otter was rotated in from some frontline position where they were actually accustomed to spilling all the beans and repeating all the details, in case orders weren't clear.

I look up at that incessantly whistling sky. The streaks of light now travelled in the opposite direction and followed the forms of simpler orbs or arrows.

"That's your side," the otter points, "But our guys will have moved out of position already. Actually, most of them aren't even otters, just locals we hired. ... To be sure, that bombardment was quite expensive, but someone like yourself is well worth the investment."

So they were behind that barrage... and they did have those weapons... Even if no 'Rudolf Abel' was there to defect, it's still serious enough to warrant an investigation.

I briefly wonder if I am actually dealing with the Kiketsu spymaster who is so professional and in control that he really can reveal everything without compromising anything. Even worse, such a spymaster could have anticipated me, and just sent in this guy to insult me, to insult us deer as a whole.

We walk into a bunker as escorting otters wave their bulleters around at the sky. Then, shuffling through its garage, we emerge on its other side, facing the road, in a car. This ride takes us to an actually finished airstrip, out of sight of where the barrage and battle had happened.

This is a fully operational airport, albeit not registered with any authority, and having no air traffic control to speak of. Instead of control towers, though, there are nail houses that stand quite defiantly in the middle of the runways. Planes of all sizes and types just land and depart as they please.

There's even a massive hangar acting as a parking lot, it has numerous doors from which planes are constantly being towed out or pushed in. The bird nest-shaped building, possibly even wider than the runways, is — was — apparently a sports center according to a signboard on one face, and a shopping mall according to the letters on another. It might still be both of those, the upper floors have to be used somehow.

"Kiketsu Airlines Flight 571 is now boarding," the otter points at a trijet being pulled out by ox-spirits driving tow vehicles, "Imported from the Gouyoku Alliance, I mean, stolen." The aircraft extends out a ladder as the tow vehicles drive off, and we hastily get on just as it starts taxiing.

Me and that squad of six otters seem to be the only passengers of this flight, served by a crew of six more otters wearing maid costumes. Not that there's much room for any more, most of the fuselage has been taken up by a cargo compartment. I think it's best not to ask about what's inside.

Naturally I am nervous, but not just for the mission as a whole. When the plane takes off, we narrowly avoid a collision with another large passenger jet...

We will arrive...
[ ] At a secret base and report to our otter handlers.
[ ] At an ordinary airport for a tour of otter country first.
[ ] In another [specify] organization's territory after running out of fuel and making an emergency landing.

Current Publicly Available Information
現在㒶開可能な啨報

The following excerpts have been decrypted from intercepted communications and traffic, and cached for your perusal...

... MELAMPUS© currently uses gendered pronouns in the twilight language to translate what in most Animal languages are actually status-based pronouns. The 'matriarchs' are referred to in the feminine because of their preeminent status; the masses of their subordinates likewise referred to in the masculine because they are faceless, numerous, and individually unimportant. This convention is modern, and derives from inspiration by a very specific collection of human spirits; it is completely orthogonal to the system of beast spirit physiology and reproduction, and whatever characteristics individuals exhibit with regard to either ...

... One famous deer-spirit humanizer is known only by the transcriptional logograms 鹿剋思, variously rendered as 'Luwk Khok-si', 'Shika Omoikachi', 'Lurx', 'Deer Who Overcomes Thought', 'Lucius' ...

... Economic systems are classified by the degree of change a subjective will and force can bring about and impose on production and consumption, i.e. what an organization boss can do by threatening something. Although better considered on a spectrum, for convenience most distinguish between only 'participatory' (often councilist) and 'autonomous' (often computerized-automated) systems. Under this arbitrary convention about 80% of the Animal Realm's population lives under 'participatory' economies; the remainder primarily comprises the idolaters and utility-maximizing frontline administrations established to fight them ...

... Humanism in the vulpine civilization of far antiquity revolved around cultivation into 'fox immortals', which eventually developed a significant albeit heterodox element involving charming humans and attaining a kind of tragic true love. In this humanism, the very fulfilment of the vulpine conception of self was dependent on deforming it according to the desires of the human other. Through this, vulpine philosophy attained a decisive break from earlier thought, e.g. feline, canine, and equine philosophy, which considered humans as natural, external, if not instrumental beings relative to oneself ...

[X] Run out of fuel and make an emergency landing (3/5)

Hey, that's just absurd. There's no way that could happen. Well, I guess this device could get disoriented in flight...

The maid-otters first serve us all a strange beverage, poured into delicate porcelain cups. I inspect the patterns carefully, but years of study and fieldwork can only conclude they are not of this realm. The leaves and flowers are woven in a manner that's way too careful delicate to be — even the perched birds are more demure than the average Gouyoku First-something. As for the concoction itself, it is green, opaque, foamy, and emits a faint pleasant fragrance.

"Ah... Mr. Abel, you've gone out of your own combination, into another," the otter in charge says, "No small feat, of course... But have you ever been to another world?"

"That can mean many things nowadays," I say nonchalantly.

"And indeed some of the definitions are worth more than others," the otter chuckles.

So far this otter has not been very careful or considered in his words and actions, but — I remind myself — not necessarily out of negligence or incompetence. In fact the opposite can be suggested behind every seeming fumble of his. Extravagance and excess to simply show the Kiketsu's power and resources; disclosing all plans in advance just to taunt their targets with how, even then, they can not be stopped; melodramatic conduct purely to show otters can get away with it, and are no less serious for it. It's important to not be overwhelmed by this display, to focus on him as if he alone was everything... It's a trap, for what — well no one knows, but we do know humans do this and that's enough reason to be wary of it.

But of course. We have abolished — or, desperately claim to have never known — distinctions of profession and intellect. Philosophy, articulated most arrogantly and snobbishly as if we see past and are above every object of discussion, is the last shared, universal interest anyone has across all the great species and combinations. I decide to try to show off the breadth and depth of Junketsu indoctrination, or at least what I've managed to absorb of the sessions.

With the same quotes recited from a textbook, I could come off as independent-minded and cultivated, healthily skeptical if not cynical, or malleable enough for another's uses, depending on however the other party liked to see their tools and pawns. As it usually went, I believe, those assessments of character were post hoc, meant to affirm to combination members themselves they were actually following a kind of distinct ethos, rather than... well, I've already been filed on the flight plan with their agency, what more value to Kiketsu could I have?

I affect a knowing grin, and pull my shoulders back. I'm not touching that drink, whatever happens — it may just be too noble for the matter being conducted. "Of course. Not long ago we were, uh, doing something with this outland—"

"—Which was just another project, wasn't it?" The otter shoots out one of his paws at me. I reflexively jolt back, ducking below the arc he seems to gesture at.

"Did I call it?" He stares wide and titters uncontrollably. "Did I? Ha! The textbooks, the theories and sciences of this thing, are the same across all the combinations."

"To— to, to be exact —" I am exasperated, quick to answer, wanting to correct him just to wipe that obnoxious look off his face. But my tongue catches itself in a knot. That's exactly what he wants! It was my turn to spill the beans about that outland! Sasuga, you dirty Kiketsu mustelid...

Even if the real Rudolf Abel was to leak that, it was now up to me to stop that. "No wait, you're right, that's what it just is," I inhale. This otter really is an expert.

"Like everything else, like, everywhen..." he retracts his paws, rubbing them together, "You know, like how in the oldest days the wisest ones in your romp, erm, herd, told you what 'humans' were up to, and since those stories of silly clothes and contraptions were all of what humans were good for, recreating those as they said would bring about a 'new world' where, as far as it was practically relevant, we lived with those fantastical beings..."

"We now know that to be merely how primitive systems of sacerdotal rule and their embedded economies ideologically justified themselves," I paraphrase a textbook.

"Bingo!" the otter points again, "Then Snowball and Napoleon came in and say every beast spirit will now come together to hear each other out and replace one another. Then there will be a new world where we... just don't have to listen to or care about humans. Not that anyone did in the world that already existed, but oh well. Then right when everybeast achieves councilism we go back to combinations of mostly just one species—"

"Idolatry came first," I correct, again impulsively. World history is retold poorly like this constantly — as many times a day as there are mouths in this plane to spew such vacuities. I am of course sure I have the unrivalled, unique, superior understanding of it, and so is everyone else.

"Yeah! Yes!" the otter claps, his eyes almost ready to shoot out like bullets, "Those absolute literal simians thought they could just EVOLVE! A new world where they get to BE the humans, by doing inane pointless things like 'worshipping gods'! The most whimsical bunch, you have to admit," he slaps his foot and belly.

"The combinations were reactive appropriations of the idol-cult structure, intended to defend against the very philosophy which conceived of that tool," I quote another dissertation.

"Projects. Just projects. Some guy thinks of something big, and acts like it's going to change everything. Duh... The Gouyoku Alliance has now institutionalized such narcissism! Every eagle is in charge of doing one specific thing they think is going to just remake life down here. Like making damn good airliners," the otter taps at the pristine window glass, staring into his own reflection.

One of the maid otters rush in from the flight deck. "Sir, about that, it appears the autopilot has been bugged and control over the aircraft has been remotely seized. It deliberately had us going in circles and is now taking a detour into Gouyoku territory, in which we will run out of fuel and be forced to land."

"And, of course, you, Mr. Abel, you and your Project Chou Kou," the otter continues grinning, at my reflection. And of course, completely ignoring the report.

My hoof freezes just as I lift the cup of the unidentified liquid. I squint and slowly track my gaze forward back onto the otter. Was that the defector's thing? But of course, if anyone had to ask about it here, it was me...

The otter maid seems to accept the situation and just moonwalks back into the flight deck. I too couldn't care less about the fact that we were being remotely hijacked as I try to think my way through these bits and pieces the otter just wantonly dumps out.

"Well, don't worry too much about it," the otter sits back and finishes his cup in one gulp, burping loudly, "Projects, ambitions, are good, naturally, but when it comes to worlds... one must accept only the real deal. Like gems, they're discovered, not made. You have to be there to know it, not just intuit it like you do the fulfilment of world history."

I take a sip from the cup, the drink is, perhaps only in this moment, curiously entirely devoid of flavor, presenting only the mere sensation of movement down my throat.

"Years ago, I was in Gensokyo!" the otter jolts forward again, "Up there, at the bottom of the Genbu Ravine! I gave the kappa gaming consoles! I saw REAL humans!" He gesticulates excitedly, ripping out from deep in his pelt a souvenir of some sort, utterly alien in make.

I nod lightly and take another sip, as if unimpressed, if not skeptical. World-travelling technology, a Kiketsu-patented development, had existed for some time, it had even been deployed very openly in several major conflicts. But precisely for that everyone doubted if it actually existed and wasn't just a gigantic hoax. It is very convenient and Kiketsu-like to use the interventions of a human shrine maiden to cover up for the development of actual haniwa-defeating munitions, and whatever that could actually leave the trail of destruction we saw at the Idolater capital. It is even more Kiketsu to have their rivals waste innumerable hours in council meetings and other kinds of resources trying to catch up in that department.

"It's all real, an entire other world... just everything that isn't ours..." The otter is already absorbed in his yearning, impossible to fake, "It's not perfect, to be sure, their stage of social development remains appallingly primitive... but that's what we are there for..."

All that doubt about those other worlds was just because they weren't there; neither was I. So far this otter just lets on what he knows, there's no reason not to doubt this out of the others...

The otter stretches out his arms. "And in this plane's cargo compartment sits hundreds of sets of world-travelling gear now to be used at our collective discretion. Mr. Abel, once you get Chou Kou wrapped up to Lady Kicchou's pleasing, I will be graciously inviting you to a blissful retirement in Moriya Shrine's deer reserve. ... Of course, once we're done with this, I must emphasize..."

At this moment the otter finally comprehends what he heard a minute or two earlier from the maid. "... Right. WHAT? We're going to crash in eagle country?!" He jumps up from his stool. "Damn it, should have known they would rig their things for tricks like this!"

Turning to look through the windows we have already descended below the clouds. Blue-glowing columns of what I can tell to be eagle goasts are dashing through the prairie below, where we are surely headed.

"Battle stations!" The otter shouts, and wraps a headband over his muzzle, "Everyone grab something from the back, if we go down, the cargo will go down with us!"

Okay, well, guess you guys were right. My bad for doubting the otter, my bad for doubting you too. But let's get our response planned out first...

New equipment acquired; select one for use
[ ] 'World-travelling gear'
> Escape all your real-life problems by spiriting yourself away into Gensokyo!
[ ] 'Wheel ghost array'
> Portable oracles' human spirits can be inserted into wheel ghosts to activate and control them
[ ] 'Roaring Mode controller'
> Our companions make excellent bullet sponges... no, really, that's literally their job description

Course of action
[ ] Fight
[ ] Run
[ ] Talk

World-travelling gear (4/5)

The 'world-travelling gear' comes in compact, environmentally friendly biodegradeable paper packaging, which I easily rip open with my teeth. Most of it consists of plates and bracers fastened onto limbs, joints, and other parts, adjustable through loosening or tightening like a suit of armor to fit the physiques of a wide variety of beast spirits. There is also a number of needles which are carefully jabbed into key points along meridian channels, which are arranged specific to each beast-spirit's physiology. The last and most important component is a headset, which I keep hung on my antlers for the time being.

"Well, I suppose if we fail to get you out of this, the least we can do is to deliver on that retirement," the head otter says, charging up his bulleter and revising how to deploy basic bullet patterns. He looks at the other sets of world-travelling gear and changes his mind, grabbing one bag for himself. "Damn it, I'll go too! I'm coming, Ms. Kawashiro, with another gaming console!"

The other otters spin their heads at him and squint apprehensively. Their bulleters slowly raise to match their sightlines and at him. "Dude, you're just going to leave us here like that?"

"... I mean, only if all is lost. Don't worry, you can take one if you want too! But make no mistake, this is — I mean, would — not be — TOTALLY NOT — an act of desertion, but a dynamic and astute creatively improvised reassignment of appropriate resources to the task of civilizing and developing Gensokyo instead..."

The jet touches the ground with a great thump, and several otters are thrown onto the floor. I lean next to the window, loading my bulleter and checking the status of my goast. Judging from the fight against the wheel ghosts just hours earlier it would likely withstand much punishment. How exactly did our goasts get this tough? What does it mean that potentially every Junketsu goon — I mean every valiant fighter holding the banner of Lurxism-Kirinism is now as resilient and durable as a haniwa? Well, we have enough mysteries to think of already...

"The windows! Can we open them? They should be convertible to fireports..." one of the junior otters shouts.

"Nope, they've got this whole plane locked down," replies the otter maid.

The land below us is just a plain swathe of green, even the gusts produced by our landing travels through the grass as a single wave. It is unbelievably pristine by standards down here, 'like a default desktop' as some like to call it.

The only structures in sight are gigantic letters carved out of stone. On a distant hill stands in solitude the words 'Ready to labor and struggle for—'. Then, next to us there is a row of options to complete the sentence, each standing behind another, like dominoes. We pass by them one by one as the plane taxis. The initial several dozen instances are the names of ancient leaders in scripts I can't even read. Then 'Haniyasushin' occurs once, then 'Gouyoku Alliance' and 'Lady Toutetsu' several times, but always with unfamiliar mentions of a 'First'-something in between them. Except for the last instance of 'Gouyoku Alliance' with which the slogans end, all are heavily vandalized to render them more or less illegible. But why leave them there at all?

The taxiing comes to a stop, and the engines go quiet soon after. But the doors won't open whatever we try, and the lead otter is very adamant that we do not smash anything to damage this preciously well-engineered aircraft. Thus all we can do is put half of our faces up against the glass and stare anxiously at the column of eagles catching up to us. Neither deer nor otters have particularly good vision, but we manage to catch specks of color that don't look like ordinary eagle goasts, and assisted by our own goasts we zoom in to capture a more detailed view, right as the eagles spread out to surround the plane.

"Two human-forms," an otter maid holding a pair of binoculars grimaces.

"Wings on one, horns on another," adds an otter wearing a beret.

"No way. We meet Toutetsu this fast?" another otter gasps.

"No, hair is black," the squad chaplain raises a paw, "But they're high-ranking enough to be concerned anyway..." Probably the most learned of the bunch as suggested by his thick beard-like whiskers, this otter's left eye scans closely the sights outside, while the other pores over a field manual on identifying beast matriarchs.

The evacuation slide is extending of its own accord. We will be meeting eagles four times our number on terms entirely dictated by them. My heartbeat accelerates: what can we possibly do here? The mission hasn't even properly started, I can't just get game-overed without even knowing what Chou Kou is about.

I move to the furthest window from the door. "You know, I have a bigger profile, so it's more efficient if I get out later," I mumble at the otters, already immersed in reciting prayers.

"Since only force can alter this murderous world, as every living creature knows..." the chaplain chants.

As for the otter in charge, he has already tied three additional headbands around his head, and stands next to the door with his bulleter ready. The hatch-doors begin to open. "This is it! By the numbers, boys..." he gasps, takes deep breaths, and then begins counting down. "Three... two... one..."

Sunlight shines in, its rays perforating the shade the otters tried to make cover in...

"—EIGHT THOUSAND!" comes the call. The leader jumps down the slide.

"—Years!" the rest answer, and leap to follow.

Courageous creatures! For all the silliness they display, now they care only to plunge into nothingness... Their goasts leave awesome glowing streaks of green, as the instants in which they make their resolves are so tremendous that such after-images are burned into reality itself. They charge forth, not to shoot bullets, but to become bullets themselves. And now as they meet the enemy—

"I beg your mercy, First Convoker!" The head otter grabs the foot of the anthropomorphic eagle spirit towering over him, "I'll never steal a plane from you ever again!"

Talk (4/5)

Now that the real nature of the situation has revealed itself, I make my way down the evacuation slide in a leisurely manner. I carefully fix my suit to make a better impression on the two figures than the otters did. I also get to tell just what they are...

The two have bodies and faces like that of the matriarchs. That is, flat, smooth faces with forward-facing eyes; a slender body, which one can notice even behind their clothes; two hands of five fingers each, and I imagine the same for their leg-perpendicular feet; and lacking organic coats, hair that grows only from the top and back of the head, which for that matter are black for both. Standing upright they dwarf every beast spirit present except for myself.

These kinds of bodies startle and terrify ordinary animals with their uncanny forms. In motion they are even more so — the foot bounces twice, the upright stance resists all urges to bend or contract for convenience. It is then no surprise that they are the regalia of the powerful in the Animal Realm. I am told they are meant to approach what you people look like. And only after realizing all this does one notice the familiar features of animals that identify what beast-spirit they are and what organizations they serve — that they are beast-spirits at all.

The one on the left, whom the otter is pleading to, wears a beret and a tunic suit with standing collars. On her back grows two wings spanning around the length of her arms. Her shorter peer sports a long green gown decorated with golden patterns and black cuffs. Two red helix-shaped horns — each making two full curls — poke out from the sides of her head.

Those appendages are clearly and recognizably those of an eagle and goat respectively, but against their strange builds they can only appear grafted, bolted on. Symbols, abruptly inserted, desperately assuring you they could never mean anything more than what they signified.

"Uh-huh, First Consolegiver," the eagle-spirit crosses her arms at the lead otter.

"... You know each other?" I ask, forgetting to even greet.

"Um, totally not!" The otter turns back at me, "We did not at all work together in the joint administration of a buffer zone in the years—" a boot lifts and stamps his muzzle under it, he is left to make only muffled moans.

"He is known by that achievement of his, sure..." the eagle says with contempt, turns to me, and squints. "And you..."

Sure, about time we give a name to that otter indeed. Console-Giver it is.

"... Well, yes, First Consolegiver, if only because First Trafficker of Kicchou's Gigolos is too embarrassing!" the eagle-spirit bursts into giggling. The goat holds a handkerchief up to her face, which she turns away from us.

I straighten myself and maintain a stiff, unamused expression at the crass joke. The eagles in their back do too, but also applaud by rustling their wings together very fast. The atmosphere is rather threatening, their talon-mounted bulleters are still pointed at us.

"Okay no, surely that's not what you otters are doing here?" the eagle grabs the otter by his tail, raising him to her eye level. He shivers in fear, frantically paddling his paws in the air to try to 'swim' away from that hair-curtained face.

"No I don't think so," the goat says, looking languid and uninterested.

"... okay, I'll tell you everything!" Console-Giver stutters out.

"No thanks," the eagle drops him back to the ground, "You can keep sharing all your top secrets for another day. We here are only concerned about the theft of Gouyoku property."

"In addition to returning the aircraft itself, for the inconvenience, time wasted on chasing you down, and other implicit costs you have caused with your acts, this convocation has decided, after careful deliberation..." the goat turns to the eagles behind, "The exaction of appropriate compensation, also upon review and careful deliberation."

"We agree!" The eagles caw together, beaks still pointed up stiffly and eyes still held to maintain a threatening glare. There is not much else in the way of facial expression for them, they had to speak and express through these two human-faced functionaries.

"You're carrying merchandise, aren't you?" The eagle looks down and asks Console-Giver.

"Uhh... yes, First Convoker! What do you want? I can help you pick the—"

"Thank you for your cooperation," she raises her chin and steps up to me, "But deals are better made through neutral and fair parties."

I exchange glances with Console-Giver, inhale nervously, and clear my throat. "Ah, uh, suppose I should properly introduce myself as, uh, Mr. Console-Giver's business partner. —Rudolf Abel, right, yes. Pardon the inconvenience," I bow.

"First Convoker will suffice," she returns the gesture.

"Of what?" I blurt. I immediately regret the slip of tongue, but I manage to deliver it composed and confident enough.

She too immediately shrinks back at the words. "... The Student Council, the local Lady Toutetsu Fanclub, and the Gouyoku Section of the Situationist International... nothing substantial." She looks away as if embarrassed, and then turns to point at the goat, "A-Anyway and this one right here is Goat."

"Just... 'Goat'? No title?" I put my hoof on my chin.

"Alternatively 'The Goat', some also like to capitalize it; the documentation said 'Scapegoat'."

"My name is actually Imaginary Toutetsu, thank you very much," the Goat says, unamused.

"Someone who vaguely looks like Lady Toutetsu but also isn't actually her, to act as morale support for eagles who need it," First Convoker explains, "Or as someone to take out their complaints on. That's what the cultural engineering experiment wanted to study. Gee I wonder if there's a word for that."

"My design just got eliminated in the runoff voting, so they're recycling me for unimportant appearances," the Goat pouts as she crosses her arms. A whiff of air vents out through her curly hair.

"Name what you've got, surely you've stolen something we built for a haul worthy of it— no, actually, is that a..." First Convoker gets uncomfortably close, inspecting the headset I wore on my antlers, "Well, deer under Kicchou's thumb sure advertise wares in the most enticing way possible," she giggles.

"Kiketsu-brand situation-constructor," says the Goat.

"... most sensually so." The grin fails to leave First Convoker's face after her cawing ends.

I exchange glances with Console-Giver again, he nods. The cargo is evidently expendable — very fortunately, I can't think of why the eagles would need generic bulleters or that device which makes the otters run in circles and catch bullets for you. First Convoker's pupils have condensed and concentrated in the manner of seeing prey; if we had nothing to pay the eagles with, we would most definitely become subjects of another cultural engineering research paper on the efficacy of animal sacrifice. The eagles and that goat are already talking to each other, twittering in their language that I don't understand.

I guess Console-Giver's going to live up to his eagle-name, again, just not with the kappa he's so fond of. "Ah yes! No problem. We are gracious in sharing our advances so all species can take vacations in—"

"We're taking your whole inventory of it, nothing else. Consider this merciful," First Convoker points at the plane's rear cargo door.

"The manner of this exchange is symmetrical with your acquisition of the aircraft. Now, if you want, we can print a receipt," Scapegoat pokes Console-Giver with her foot.

Console-Giver nods again, he didn't even wait to think about it. A hoof-shake seals the deal, the door opens and a ramp extends, and in no time the eagles are dashing in and out from the cargo hold, taking the paper-bagged equipment with them.

"I hope this has been a pleasure," I say meekly to First Convoker.

"No, wait," she puts up a hand, "Acceptance testing and quality inspection."

"Well, if that is so, we can demonstrate with one—"

"All of them," she says harshly.

At this point I don't even hesitate. "Yes! Certainly. Everyone can put one on, boot it up, and jump somewhere. We can even together do an immediate Gensokyo incursion, quick fun for the whole family, you'll be certain it's real beyond belief."

Is it really 'quick fun' though? Why are they so interested on using it immediately? For that matter, what even is there? I haven't even used the thing myself yet, it seems really sketchy whatever it promises... and Console-Giver seems all too desperate and happy to let them go ahead with it.

Finally regaining his composure, Console-Giver hands me a manual to read off while he goes to sit on a boulder to cool himself down with a hand fan. I watch nervously as all forty-eight eagle-spirits plus First Convoker and the Scapegoat put on the world-travelling gear, bending the headsets to fit their heads.

"Now, if you have any doubts and questions..."

[ ] "You can figure it out yourself."
> Escape with the otters.
[ ] "I can help you through the basics of maneuvering through otherworlds..."
> Activate our world-travelling gear and go with the eagles.
[ ] "I'm gonna headbutt 'cha!"
> Initiate combat.

[X] "I can help you through the basics of maneuvering through otherworlds..." (4/5)

... Can I? I don't even know how these things work myself, and I learned about the worlds beyond only by those exaggerated adventure comics from Kiketsu publishers...

"Please do, Mr. Abel!" First Convoker smiles, for the first time rather pleasantly. She turns to the eagles, now arrayed into an... eagle-shaped formation. "A change of task it is, we shall be going on an off-world expedition now!" The eagles applaud.

Okay, fine. Impromptu reassignment, flexible work, I am mobilized and called upon to defend whatever it is. I have to live up to the eagles' expectations — no, actually, I must live up to my own! What would my own combination be if it couldn't promote the lowliest and humblest worker to subjugator I mean civilizer I mean liberator of Gensokyo?

The Land of Fantasy, yeah, it's a land for OUR fantasies. What am I if I can't even just imagine something delightful?

"Okay, you will want to first set the destination," I read aloud the instructions, "For example—"

"I'll take care of that," Scapegoat takes out a note slip, "The last time we captured First Consolegiver, he very helpfully offered us these coordinates in exchange for his freedom. What a good time to verify them!"

I look around for Console-Giver, he's still trying to calm down on the boulder.

It was easy for the pseudo-matriarch to figure out basic functions on the world-travelling gear like messaging. All fifty-one of us tap around and input the same coordinates to the systems, which show up on the heads-up display provided by the headset.

"Okay that is done. Now you just initiate the sequence," I anxiously move my eyes down the last page of the manual; it really just ends with a 'good luck' on our world-travelling endeavors. Clearly there was going to be nothing after that.

The needles dig in— ouch! The pain starts sharp and only gets worse until it's numbing. "That's the lock-on," I calmly explain to the eagles, who are clenching their beaks together. There's whirring and buzzing coming out the gear, which also gets heavier and heavier. My whole body feels like it's vibrating along to something and resisting being crushed by another. First Convoker bites her lips and Scapegoat grinds her fangs.

Fighting the spinal support stiffening on my neck, I look around again for Console-Giver. He raises his paw in a gesture assuring me everything will be fine. The rest of the otters have lined up to see us off anxiously, waving at us.

... I blinked, and suddenly everything's light again, like a mountain was lifted off myself. And we're now in a totally different open area right outside of some kind of wooden shack.

"... Um, Ms. Goat, where are we?" I ask, frantically feeling around my body. The suit's components are still there. My hoof grasps the bulleter tightly.

"The Yakumo family house," she clasps her hands, "Looks like it worked perfectly. Say, First Convoker, we're going to do this?"

... The what house? I don't remember anything about it from the comics. And also it is now the eagles' turn to put on headbands. I feel very inauspicious about all this. The air around is humid and oppressing, the discomfort from the suit also never wore off.

"The honor to be First-something will now be yours," First Convoker smiles back at Scapegoat. Well yeah, whatever happens you'll want to push all the blame onto her... "Though, feels a bit... hasty, don't you think?"

Scapegoat nods. "Certainly. We are talking about Lady Toutetsu's old fox plus the evil sage controlling her plus everything they together can throw at us. Immediately fighting them, for one's first jump no less, is not what most beast-spirits would do."

... You're damn right! My eyes are almost bulging out. Thanks for the description, I wouldn't have known you were seeking a pointlessly early death otherwise!

"But that is what situation-constructors are for, no? How else can one find such overwhelming sensations? 'Battle is the spice of life', Lady Toutetsu says."

The eagles spread out for some kind of combat formation. First Convoker cracks her knuckles. "Let's get this started."

You all are insane! This house emits an ominous aura, but I bet its inhabitants are more reasonable than you! ... I'm already at the doorstep, having moonwalked to it while shaking my knees and drenching myself in sweat. ... I've also already banged on the door.

And the door slides open. It's so dark inside I can only see a towering shadow, but there's certainly a lot of tails behind, I can tell that... "How may I help?" she greets.

[ ] Talk and defuse the situation.
[ ] Fight and win.
[ ] Fight, lose, and escape.

[X] Defuse the situation (4/5)

"How may I help?"

The only reason I understood vulpine was because I had to study it as part of a classics program. You see, foxes were some of the first civilizations in the Animal Realm to dedicate themselves to the art of charming and seducing humans while wearing their appearances— yes, there used to be an entire civilization of them! To get better at that they built their temples and palaces in the style of the humans, with those distinctive tiled gable roofs, so they could get habituated to it even when not travelling the planes beyond. Their works on humanism are studied across all the great combinations as the fundaments of a shared intellectual tradition.

Why there are few foxes in the Animal Realm today the professor never told us. Back then, I personally surmised most of the foxes accomplished their practice and disappeared from the Animal Realm. This fox has the smooth-faced, front-looking form of the matriarchs, wears this ridiculously ancient-look costume, and grows nine twirling tails out of her back — certainly a very learned and cultivated individual, so I'm inclined to support my hypothesis. The shack also seemed about what you'd expect ancient ascetics to live in...

"Ah, sorry. I'm Yakumo Ran, what may you all be looking for here?" she says in an archaic and stilted register of cervine, trying to peek at the crowd behind me. I don't need to. The eagles have bulleters aimed, I can just picture the trajectories and courses for each bullet that will swing at us ... I sidestep to block her view.

"Peace be upon you Ms. Ran, the Gouyoku Alliance greets you today!" First Convoker shouts in aquiline, "If you are confused, do not worry. In moments the veil of delusion shall dispel itself, and the yoke imposed on you by the evil sage will break!"

"Ah, you're from the Gouyoku Alliance?" says the fox kindly, "Welcome! Very exciting to have visitors from afar. But pardon me, that seems a really obscure dialect, I didn't quite understand all of it..."

Great... I straighten myself, wipe my hooves over my face, and refresh my look with a serious, assured expression. She is friendly at the moment, sure, but the scouter's reading on her power level is overflowing, and the sensor suite picks up all kinds of emissions around us and down that hallway that's way too long to be entirely contained in that shack. No doubt, the slightest faux pas will end with all of us annihilated in an instant.

"For ages Lady Toutetsu has bled her heart out for your suffering, and so have we," First Convoker recites with exaggerated emotion and inflection, "But that all ends here. Today, we are here to end these sorrows by our own hand, erm, claw. We will liberate you from the curse the evil sage has placed on you and return you to the Animal Realm, to Lady Toutetsu's company!"

Ran is still confused. It's genuinely lucky that the standard language among the eagles has evolved to become unrecognizable to these learned ancients. "Sorry, what is she saying? I'm trying my best but I really can't understand a word... Toutetsu?"

"Ah, uh, yes! We are an envoy sent by Lady Toutetsu herself, whose blessings we hereby relay, ... to..." I reply in vulpine. I figure she might be more reticent about tearing us apart if we can tie our name to someone as powerful as Toutetsu. Furthermore, speaking her own language must be able to impress her and make it all look sincere.

"Really," Ran puts a hand up to her cheek, "Go on?"

Just as I make a gain on this front there's a massive setback on another... the eagles, in formation, have charged up their bulleters... "This will be a battle fought not just for your freedom, but for the liberation of all animals, all those enslaved as shikigami by the evil sage, all those suffering similar injustices elsewhere," First Convoker continues, "And of course, for the insatiable hunger of Lady Toutetsu herself!"

Blood nearly evacuates my face at this point. But I have to try everything I've got. "To... Present a gift! Yes! Uh, don't mind those eagles. It's just that we take this very seriously and have to present the gift with the appropriate salute."

"Ooh, that's so sweet!" she smiles, "It's really nice to—"

"ATTACK!" First Convoker screeches. The eagles roar out 'ten thousand years' as their bulleters begin buzzing. A mass of white discs burning with red flames assemble behind Scapegoat, evidently now a stand-in for Toutetsu, and sweep forth in an arc. They're jumping straight to a non-spell... A couple of eagles, glowing brightly and polychromatically, begin accelerating at Ran.

It's over... I grip my antlers in despair. My legs buckle and give out, I fall to my knees as a bullet soars over my head the next moment.

Really, the moment they mentioned a fox I already guessed this would happen. The eagles preached regularly about the "great tragedy of Lady Toutetsu's old fox friend", this was known to anyone who listened in on Gouyoku broadcasts even once. First-somethings had been agitating for a 'push through the gaps', and a total mobilization to that end. There were festivals where eagles flagellated, branded, and cut themselves to symbolize an exorcism of the 'enthralled fox' that would come. This was all they knew of other worlds for ages, why wouldn't they act on all of it? It explained everything, why they were so fast and desperate for the world-travelling gear, but as always, by the time such knowledge is attained, it's already too late...

To think of it... the eagles have such grand expectations of the worlds beyond, yet all that anticipation prevents them from actually getting anything out of them, they're here entirely to act out what they themselves wanted. Ran looked very kind, hardly under any kind of malevolent influence as far as we knew. She even acknowledged Toutetsu pleasantly! Given the nature of the otherworlds I think it has all just been a great mistake. And now it comes to such a farcical culmination! With these futile thoughts I muster the courage to look up at the rain of bullets...

... Ran spins past all of them, and the eagles all slam into the rocks and foliage behind the shack. With the next blink of the eye she is standing right over the goat, in the middle of the eagles' formation.

First Convoker scowls and puts a hand up to her face. The eagles pause their barrage. I use the chance to get up and run up to them.

"That's a very impressive display! Toutetsu is great to have you as followers," Ran smiles.

"There's no way you're going to beat her," I whisper to First Convoker.

"No shit," she spits back, "I'm not taking this fight. We have to improvise a way out of this."

"Well, as I was trying..." I sigh.

"Your vulpine has an obnoxious accent," she says, "I'll handle this."

So she also knows the language... I'm even less eager to learn what the Gouyoku classics program is like.

At First Convoker's signalling all of the eagles lower their bulleters and politely bow at Ran. Scapegoat wears a very uncomfortable expression, face stiff and eyes glancing around, with Ran looming over her. Based off the numbers cited in Kiketsu television programs making fun of Toutetsu's height combined with my own visual estimations, this substitute Toutetsu is somehow even shorter than the real one, which must play a great role in her discomfort here.

"Yes, Ms. Ran, that is the gift we are presenting to you," First Convoker's voice is remarkably more subdued and even obsequious this time — those are definitely not characteristics of the vulpine language itself, "The Gouyoku Alliance's latest achievement in consumer household electronics: a customized shikigami pet built to resemble Lady Toutetsu, so you'll never again be sad over not having her by your side!" She then switches over to aquiline to taunt Scapegoat herself, "Well, as I promised, looks like you are becoming a First-something!"

"Hey what is the meaning of this?" Scapegoat bares her teeth.

"Wow, technology really develops fast over there... and it really acts like her too!" Ran pets the goat by the latter's black hair, "It's so adorable! Well, I'm not sure about it filling in for the real deal, but the Yakumo household could certainly use another helper. But please relay my gratitude to Toutetsu."

[ ] Ask for something in exchange
[ ] Get back to the Animal Realm
[ ] Go somewhere else [specify location]